The Tale Of Courier Six
by GeneralOfTheBlackParade
Summary: A mystery from no where, Courier Six strolled into Zion, a monument of the "Civilized lands". While she promises she's there to help, it's clear that's not all she's there for. [Nonlinear story, with slow burn romance - Courier/Boone - Courier/Joshua]
1. Casualty

**A/N: This will be the slowest of burns, so buckle up; this is going to be a long ride. As a foot note, the pairings will be occurring at the time same because of how the story will be written. If you're not okay switching between Boone/Courier and Joshua/Courier, then it's time to tap out.**

* * *

Night settled over Zion Canyon, the Dead Horses took their rest; their hunters slinking back from their days of hard work, and those who guarded the camp during the day changing posts with the night watch. Protected by the towering stone walls, huddled by the campfire; the stranger to Zion took up her post; readying herself for another sleepless night. Across the flames was Graham, one leg pitched as a rest for his arm; allowing him to read his bible in peace.

Settling down beside the stranger, clad in a strange dark suit with headgear hiding her face, Follows-Chalk held out a piece of Yaka Fruit; offering her a smile, "I don't know why you carry all those bottle caps, they jangle like crazy…"

She accepted the fruit, letting out a short breath of laughter, "they're currency where I'm from… You pay for things with them; like trading. You can also collect caps with little stars on the bottom to get some kind of treasure…"

Follows-Chalk quirked a brow, about to ask only for her to beat him to the punch; after digging through one of the pouches on her belt, she produced a bottle cap. Holding it out in her palm, Follows-Chalks could see the blue star in the bottom of the cap.

"Take it," she encouraged.

Follows-Chalk accepting it, tilting it to see the light hit the cap; studying the way it caught on the blue of the star. "Hard to think such a small thing could lead to treasure," he stated, holding it out for her, "you civilized people are something funny."

She shook her head, "keep it, I've got plenty already."

"So, what is your name? I understand you are a Courier, but…?"

"That's my name," she dismissed, "Courier Six. It's not what I would have called me either, but, hey; it's my name."

"That's some kind of funny name," he smiled at her; receiving a simple shrug in response.

"So is Follows-Chalk, to me at least," she mused, "so, tell me your story. What's brought you to this moment?"

"My story?" He took a moment, turning his thoughts over in his head. "Not much to tell – I've lived here my whole life, I'm a scout for the Dead Horses, I'm excited to see the taboo areas with you…"

"Well, the taboo things are the most fun," Six remarked. "What about the future? What do you want to do?"

He smiled, the expression sheepish, picking at the Yaka Fruit in his hands, "I want to see the world…"

Six let out another breath of laughter. "I get that… When I was younger, I wanted to see the world too…" She took in a deep breath, "I left home at the first shot I got and never looked back – not that I had a lot to go back too at that point…" They lapsed into silence, the crackling of the flames accompanying the night's chorus in a soft song to fill the silence.

Follows-Chalk cleared his throat, taking a bite of the fruit before stealing a glance at her. "What about your story? Tell me about you...?"

Six let out a long breath, tossing the fruit from one hand to the other; staring into the flames. "Well… That's a tale," she mused, "but if you've got the time… I've got enough Story to fill our whole Journey; from now until we part ways."

Follows-Chalk adjusted the way he was sitting so he was facing her more, taking another bite of his fruit; waiting for her to start.

Six laughed again, the sound rough and faint; taking a moment to think over her words. "Alright…"

* * *

War. War never changes.

When atomic fire consumed the earth, those who survived did so in great, underground vaults. When they opened, their inhabitants set out across ruins of the old world to build new societies, establish new villages, forming tribes.

As decades passed, what had been the American southwest united beneath the flag of the New California Republic, dedicated to old-world values of democracy and the rule of law. As the Republic grew, so did its needs. Scouts spread east, seeking territory and wealth, in the dry and merciless expanse of the Mojave Desert. They returned with tales of a city untouched by the warheads that had scorched the rest of the world, and a great wall spanning the Colorado River.

The NCR mobilized its army and sent it east to occupy the Hoover Dam, and restore it to working condition. But across the Colorado, another society had arisen under a different flag. A vast army of slaves, forged from the conquest of 86 tribes: Caesar's Legion.

Four years have passed since the Republic held the Dam - just barely - against the Legion's onslaught. The Legion did not retreat. Across the river, it gathers strength. Campfires burned, training drums beat.

Through it all, the New Vegas Strip has stayed open for business under the control of its mysterious overseer, Mr. House, and his army of rehabilitated Tribals and police robots.

I was a courier, hired by the Mojave Express, to deliver a package to the New Vegas Strip. What seemed like a simple delivery job had taken a turn…for the worse.

I can't tell you how long I'd been out for, all I remember was hearing a voice; rough, coerce and bitter, the kind of voice that belong to a man who had a pension for jet and other similar drugs. His voice was distant, white noise like the howling wind of the Mojave, I don't know what he said; but whatever it was, the son of a bitch that hired him didn't like it much.

At the time, I didn't care; I was too distracted by the rope wrapped tightly around my wrists, doing what I could to wriggle lose but finding no luck.

"You're crying in the rain, pally," snapped their boss.

All my struggling must have caught the attention of one of the goons attention; one of them letting out a low, short cackle. "Guess who's waking up over here," he cooed.

I raised my head, a dull ache throbbing in my skull; catching sight of my captors. Before me was a man dressed in a suave daisy suit, carrying himself like a high roller straight off the Strip, with a Great Khan at either side; like Legion Mutts hanging around their trainer.

Their boss took a hit of his cigarette; letting out a long breath before dropping it to the ground and crushing it beneath his dress. "Time to cash out," he stated; taking a few steps until he stood directly before me.

"Would you get it over with?" One of the Khans hissed only for his Boss to raise a hand; silencing him.

"Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but, I ain't a fink," he glanced over his shoulder as he slipped his hand beneath his blaze, "dig?" After digging through a concealed pocket he produced a large Casino Chip; more glamorous and well kept then anything you'd find in your regular casino. "You've made you last delivery, kid," he remarked before returning the chip to the internal pocket, "sorry you got twisted up in this scene…" In the chips place, he drew a pistol; sparing a moment to study the gun, "from where you're kneeling it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. Truth is… the game was rigged from the start…" He took aim and fired.

* * *

"What?" Follows-Chalk spoke up, catching Six by surprise. "I do not think you could get shot in head and live…"

Six tilted her head, "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Then you must be some kind of lucky," he mused.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Some kind of lucky is one way to put it… The Casino's just say I'm a cheater..." She chuckled to herself. "From what I heard, a strange robot found me; my hand protruding from the soil, covered by a thin of dirt and tucked away in a shallow grave. Through the night he dug through the dirt until he pulled me free. I was delivered to a local Doctor, a kindly old man by the name of Doc Mitchel..."

* * *

Coming to, my eyes fluttered open; the blinding light of morning clouding my vision, blurring my surrounding with a burning glow. Blinking, I cleared my vision until I could make out the ceiling fan and cracked, wooden ceiling. I rushed to sit up, my vision spinning and blurring again; the old man by my bedside quick to steady me, setting his hands on my shoulders. "Woah, woah; easy there, easy..." He soothed, "you've been out cold a couple of days now... Why don't you just relax a second? Get your bearings..."

I took a moment, letting my surroundings seep in and vision to clear; being greeted by the warm safety of a well maintained of turned Doctors office. He took a moment, keeping a eye on me; waiting to make sure I didn't pass out again. My head was throbbing, my perception off; making the world seem odd."Let's see what the damage is," he stated, "what's your name? Can you tell me your name?"

I blinked, gritting against the pain; lifting my hand to my brow, finding rough thread sewn into my skin. I hissed at the pain, gently trying to trace the damage, "six..." I muttered.

Doc Mitchel let out a short, half-hearted breath of laughter, "can't say that's what I'd of picked for ya', but, if that's your name, then that's your name... I'm Doc Mitchell," he greeted, "welcome to Good Springs." He tilted his head, studying me; watching as I traced the scars of his surgery. "Now, I hope you don't mind, but I had to go rootin' around in your noggin' there to pull all the bits of lead out.. I take pride in my needle work, but, tell me if I left anything out of place." He reached down beside his chair, producing a broken mirror; handing it to me.

Studying the woman looking back in the reflection, I couldn't help but wince at the ugly mark left by the gun shot to the head; a nasty, stitched up wound just above brow. Mitchell had done a good job at replacing the bone, but, there was no saving my eye. "Well, I got most of it right,... Stuff that matters, anyway..."

I set aside the mirror, not sure what to think or do for a moment; locked behind a haze of, 'is this a nightmare?'. "No sense in keeping you in bed anymore," Mitchell stated, catching my attention, "let's see if we can get you on your feet..." He reached out, helping me out of the bed; catching me as I stumbled, my legs shaky and vision blurring again.

When I found my balance, he slowly let go; standing up properly, rising to half a head taller than me. "Good," he praised, "why don't you walk down to the end of the room? Over by that Vigor testing machine there..."

Scanning the room I caught sight of the machine on the other side; steeling myself for the walk. Putting one foot in front of the other was hard, everything about the world off set without my other eye. Awkwardly stumbling to the machine, Doc Michelle following me all the way to make sure I didn't hurt myself, I made my way across the room; eager to use the machine to stabilize myself once there.

* * *

Courier Six trailed off, Follows-Chalk having long since laid down on the ground had finally dozed off. She let out a short breath of laughter, watching him. "Seems you have a knack for story telling," Joshua remarked, startling Six; making her jump.

Glancing at the Burned Man across the dying campfire, Six simply shrugged, "I guess..." She dismissed, rising to her feet before melting into the darkness of the night; leaving Joshua by the campfire, his bible in hand, and Follows-Chalk unconscious on the ground.


	2. Lies and Memories

The sun scorched the earth; burning rays bleaching anything exposed to the light. Traversing the rocky hills and valleys, Follows-Chalk kept pace with Courier Six; staying by her heels and she slunk through the rough terrain of Zion.

"So, what... happened?" His voice took her by surprise; Six glancing over her shoulder. "After you were shot in the head... You said you woke up..."

Six let out a breath, pulling the bandana from her face; stuffing it into one of the pouches on her hip. "I'll give you the short version," she stated, "I woke up in Goodsprings, a little town in the Mojave, in the house of a kingly old man name Doc Michelle. He patched me, gave me..." She stopped, rotating her wrist; holding up her arm so he could see the device attached to her forearm, "this pip-boy and set me loose..."

Follows-Chalk quirked a brow, watching her dig through one of the satchels on her hips; pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. "What about the one that shot you?"

Six didn't answer right away, tapping out a cigarette and placing it between worn, thin lips before returning the pack to the satchel, "well..." She let out a breath, producing a small lighter. "That's... That's a bit of a ways on in the story..." Lighting up her cigarette, she took a drag; turning her thoughts over in her head. "But, I guess I can get there... It's not... Necessarily the end..."

"Wait – so, what happened after you woke up?"

Six let out a breath; smoke coiling out from between her lips and crawling into the sky. "Not much of a story, that... Just... I did a bit of wandering, reconsidered a few things..." Her hand fell to one of her pistols, a black revolver hitched to the back of her belt; picking at the odd rusted dust in the nooks and crevices of the weapon. "Found a way to... Let Go, I guess..."

"What from there?" He pried.

Six chuckled, glancing back at him, "well..." she took a moment to check her Pip-boys map, studying the distance between them and their destination. "I guess we have time..."

* * *

Stumbling down the abandoned rail road track, body weary and wrought with fatigue; I finally caught sight of sanctuary by way of a large t-rex that climbed high into the sky, the silhouette of a man in its mouth. Shambling into town, I made my way into a small motel; finding an older woman lurking behind the counter.

"Well, hello there," she greeted.

"I need a room," I cut her off, having no time for friendly chatter.

The woman seemed offended, but nodded, "it's 20 caps a night," she stated.

I slammed 100 caps down onto the counter to, "five nights..." I said, "I... I just need some place to stay for five nights." She accepted the caps before pulling a key from beneath the counter.

"Your room will be the one upstairs, closest to the lobby side," she stated.

"Thank you..." I took the key, stumbling out of the main office and towards the rooms; bumping into a large man with a scowl on his face, who carried himself like a man with his death on the horizon. A man, I didn't know at the time, but, would come to call...

* * *

Six took in a breath, discarding the burned out cigarette, lingering on her words; unsure of them. "A friend... or... I thought we were... friends..."

Follows-Chalk quirked a brow, looking at her; watching tie her bandana back around her face. "What happened?"

"We had... a difference in opinions..." She sucked in a breath, "I thought the past didn't have to matter, he disagreed..." She stopped, looking at the building marked by the warnings of Dead Horses that decorated the old look out post; a building in surprisingly good condition, considering. "It looks pretty intact, but you should stay down here..." She stated; eyeing the worn and sun bleached steps up to the stations room, "you might fall through if you're not careful."

"I'm not that heavy..." He stated, Six looking at him over her shoulder. She turned and faced him, taking a few steps down the slight slope so they were at the same ground level, setting her hands on her hips and pulling her shoulders back so she was standing at her full height; rising to just below his eyes, looking like a large doll with her dainty frame and short height. "Never mind..."

"Yeah," she dismissed. "Hang here, I'll be back..." She approached the stairs; careful to stand on the outside of the boards, Follows-Chalk moving to the base of the stairs and watching her as she climbed into the station.

"You're some kind of lucky to still be alive," he remarked, "were you here, you'd be eaten alive by... Cazadores or... Brahmin."

Six let out a bark of laughter, "Brahmin? Really?" She chuckled. "Listen, kid, I've been to worse than here... This place don't got shit on..." She trailed off, going silent for a moment. "On some other pre-war places I've been to..."

Follows-Chalk hummed, studying the area around them, catching sight of cazadores in the distant; buzzing across the ridges of Zions cliffs. "Don't know what kind of thing is worse than a cazadore sting..."

"Try air that's trying to kill you," she called down. "Or bomb collars..."

His brow furrowed in confusion, "what?"

"They're... Collars that explode, make your pop off – I've had a few too many of those things-" She stopped abruptly, "there we go..." She remerged a moment later, shoulder her pack back into place. "I've had a few too many of those things around my neck..."

"Why?"

"Old people are crazy," she dismissed, "where was I in my story?" He simply shrugged. "Great... Um..." She hummed in thought. "Something about Novac... Eh, who cares – that's a boring story anyway; long and short of it, the guy I met needed help, I obliged and in return he promised to watch my back. From there we wandered until we found The Strip..."

Follows-Chalk cocked a brow and tilted his head to the side. "The strip? You mentioned that before..."

Six let out a breath, leading him to the side of the building; dumping her pack before starting to rummage through it. "It's this... Big fancy place, streets lined with Casinos and covered in lights; a beacon of hope in the Mojave. It's where the son of a bitch that shot me ran too, can't blame him, I would too. There's a certain kind of safe you feel there..." She pulled two bottles of water from her bag, tugging down her bandana as she handed one to him. "Like... Nothing can hurt you..."

"Sounds nice..."

"Yeah..." She undid the cap on her water, taking a swig.

"Why'd you leave?"

Six remained silent, drinking her water; keeping her gaze trained on the horizon. "We should head back before night fall..." She stated, "I don't want to be out here after dark..."

He nodded, taking a gulp of his water; watching Six pull her pack back on, the two heading back the way they came. "So, why'd you leave The Strip if it felt safe?"

She stole a glance back at him, "just because some... thing feels safe, doesn't mean it is..." She dismissed. "Let's just say something happened and I decided to... deal with it the same way I always do..."

"How?"

Six didn't answer, simply leading the way back towards the Eastern Virgin; staying quite as she travelled, her mind off in her thoughts, leaving Follows-Chalk to wonder while her mind wandered back to the creaky steps of the T-Rex building, to the door the clicked and screeched as she pushed it open.

Her mind wandered back to the memory of the novelty shop; shelves lined with battered t-rex figurines, their paint chipped and colour faded. A man had been behind the counter, fast asleep with his feet up on the countertop; his snoring clashing with the radio the buzzed like white noise in the background.

She ignored him, choosing instead to make for the stairs that climbed up the T-rex's body. The aged wood creaked beneath her boots as she climbed the steps, making her way to the door that led out into the mouth of the T-rex.

Pushing it back, she'd found that it made much less noise than the front door; almost silent as she shouldered it open. On the other side was a man a head taller than her, lean and worn, with the ghost of a tan; clad in a white shirt, cargo pants and a vibrant red beret.

"Excuse me?" Her voice caught him by surprise; the man she'd come to know as Boone spinning around and aiming his rifle at her head, Six quick to duck out of the way before the barrel was trained on her. "Woah, calm down!"

"Goddamn it," he hissed, lowering his gun, "don't sneak up on me like that... What do you want?"

Six let out a breath of laughter. "Expecting someone?"

He adjusted the way he was holding his rifle, taking a moment to look her over, "yeah... I guess, maybe I am – but not like you..." He looked her over again; studying the legionnaire gear that hid her identity. "Huh, maybe it should've been you I was expecting all along. Why are you here?"

She hummed quietly. "Who were you looking for?"

He scowled, "if you see anyone in Legion crimson..."

"It'll be a race to who gets to them first," she joked, "although, you've got an unfair advantage over me."

"You still haven't answered my question..."

Six shrugged, "Making new friends?"

"I don't have any friends here," he hissed.

Snapping her fingers, she made a finger gun; pointing it at him, "I'm not from here..."

He hummed, "no, no you're not, are you? Maybe you shouldn't go, not just yet. I need someone I can trust, you're a stranger, that's a start."

Six let out a short breath of laughter, "you trust strangers?"

"I said it was a start," he said firmly, "this town... nobody looks me straight in the eye anymore. I want you to find something out for me, I don't know if there's anything to find, but I need someone to try. My wife was taken from our home by Legion slavers one night, while I was on watch. They knew when to come and what route to take, and they only took Carla. Someone set it up, I don't know who..."

Six tilted her head to the side, "you're trying to track down your wife?"

"My wife's dead," he dismissed, "I want the son of a bitch who sold her."

She hummed, "how do you know?"

"I know, all right? And that's all you need to know."

"And what do I do when I find them?"

"Bring him out in front of the nest here while I'm on duty," he stated, "I work nights. I'll give you my NCR beret to put on, It'll be our signal so I know you're standing with him. I'll take care of the rest. I need to do this myself."

"I understand," she agreed, "I get what that's like..."

The Dead Horses came into view, pulling Courier Six from her memories; becoming aware of the fact that Follows-Chalk was talking at her. She stole a glance back at him before running her eyes over the camp, trying to figure what he was talking about when her eyes caught on the Burned Man looming by one of the campfires; speak with a Dead Horse.

Whatever he was saying was distant to her, muffled; her eyes trained on Joshua Graham. As the Dead Horse left his side, his gaze shifted to them, eyes meeting hers. She felt her heart pick up pace and chest tighten; head starting to swim making her unsteady. "Courier?"

She jumped, head snapping around to Follows-Chalk, "what?"

"Were you ever a singer?"

Six stared at him for moment, "what? No? I was a..." She trailed off, "a-a courier – I've only ever been ... A Courier. I've never been anything else..."

"Sounds a shame," he stated, "why not? Why have you always been a courier?"

She stole another glance back at him; the two approaching the camp fire, Six falling down onto a log bench, taking off her boots and shouldering off her pack. "Just the way things turned out," she dismissed, setting her boots by the fire to dry.

"You never wanted to be anything else?"

"No," she dismissed.

"I heard in the civilised lands that people can be whatever they want."

"Yeah," she agreed. "And that's why I'm a Courier."

"And that's all you ever wanted to be?"

"The path people follow is not ours to judge," Grahams voice cut through the air, the Burned man studying the pair, "if our friend here has only ever wanted to be a Courier, it is not your place to judge; all we can do is be thankful for her help."

Six looked up at him, "it's gods place to judge, right?" Her words were laced with venom.

"Yes," he stated, folding his hands over the bible he carried, "it is only god who can judge us."

"And you, what? Get a free pass for everything you've done just because you ask nicely?" She stated, "must be nice for you..."

Follows-Chalk sucked in a breath, "Courier..."

"I ask God for forgiveness every day; whether or not he has found that forgiveness is not for me to know," he stated.

"I'm not a religious woman by any stretch," Six stated, "but when they say you need to ask for forgiveness, I'm pretty sure they mean you're supposed to mean it."

"I have many regrets about the crimes I've committed," he stated, "and there is no excusing my actions; all I ask is that god find the mercy to forgive me for my sins."

"Right," she muttered, "because you've been so merciful." She stood, "I'm going for a walk, I'll be back in a bit." With that, Courier Six took off; leaving her boots drying by the fire and her pack resting against the log bench.


End file.
